


Autoclave

by justicejipes



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chisato and Dojima only got married because of societal pressure in this essay I will, Gay Dojima Ryotaro, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justicejipes/pseuds/justicejipes
Summary: “Does it even matter?” Fumbling for a cigarette, he pulls the box out of his pocket. A single one left, but that’s fine. He can buy another pack before heading home, not like anyone will, or can stop him. Before he can pull the lighter from his pocket as well, Adachi fishes one out and places it on the table.
Relationships: Adachi Tohru/Dojima Ryotaro, Dojima Chisato (Mentioned)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	Autoclave

**Author's Note:**

> I love to suffer

The ash falls from his cigarette before Ryotaro realizes it, and he thinks at that moment, staying at the office any longer will be more detrimental to his health than it already is. He blinks the haze of sleep from his eyes and stubs the remainder of his vice out on the ashtray, fingers feeling too heavy and not all there at the same time. With a low sigh, his shoulders steady themselves, and with a hand that’s maybe there, maybe really isn’t, he closes the file. Chisato wouldn’t be happy, not to see him destroy the little of his willpower looking over a case that will never be solved. 

He curses himself for even thinking that.

As he flicks the office light switch, the glow of the ember reaches his eye, and for a moment he thinks that possibly, only a sliver of conceptualization in a tired mind, that the office burning down wouldn’t be all too bad. 

_ You’re a coward.  _

The quiet voice of his nephew echoes in his head, and he grips the handle of the door too long, too tight, the ache of the lock digging into his palm a dull throb. Ryotaro tucks the key back into his pocket and strides through the hall of the office, not as confident as in the earlier hours. It’s ghostly quiet- after all, the clock reads a kind two in the morning, and he wants to be mad at himself. No, he  _ is  _ mad at himself, leaving Nanako at home without him for so long. Yu is there, sure, but he knows, and she knows, that things aren’t the same. 

A round of the corner into the lobby has him running smack into another person, a collision of limbs that makes him stumble on his feet. The other takes a tumble to the ground, papers slipping out of their fingers and scattering about them in a flurry. After stabilizing he turns to apologize, only to be met with Adachi’s eyes staring up at him. Said man is still sitting on the floor, a mess of paper and clothing. 

“Ah, Dojima-san! I was wondering where you were!” He scrambles to his feet, feet unable to catch traction on the freshly printed papers. Ryotaro offers a steady hand out, and just about pulls the rookie to his full height. Adachi breathes a sigh of relief, before immediately squatting back down to gather up what he had dropped. 

“I was relooking-”

“Chisato-san’s case, yeah?”

Ryotaro shoots his partner a brief glare, before softening. It’s not as if the words are a lie, but to hear it out of someone else’s mouth makes him sound like a madman. The lilt of his late wife’s name off Adachi’s tongue makes a part of his chest stir, strange yet familiar, and he attributes it to the city accent the kid has. It wasn’t often that people, let alone adults, traveled all the way from Tokyo to the Inaba region. 

Rubbing his temple, the detective tells himself once again that despite being a rookie, his partner is a grown man, young but fully capable even with his faults. Kid was something one called a teenager, not a twenty-seven year old with a degree and experience close to his own. 

It’s not until a cup of coffee is being handed to him that he realizes the length of time his gaze has been cast upon nothing in particular. Ryotaro takes it and once more meets Adachi’s line of sight, only to see the slight pout on his lip and the furrow in his brows. He isn’t unused to the expression, it’s one that his partner makes rather often when confused about something on paperwork, but right now there isn’t anything to focus on other than his boss.

“Yes-?” The gruffness in his own voice shocks him, and with a sip of his coffee and a quick clear of his throat, he takes another stab at the sentence. 

“Yes, Adachi? You’re looking at me odd.” 

“You were staring off into space for five minutes, sir. I’m… worried.” 

Ryotaro’s heard this before, time and time again. That he’s too focused on things other than himself, than his family, yet at the same time his greatest focus  _ is  _ family. Chisato was- no, is- part of his family, always will be, even in death. Admittedly, having his attention focused on nothing but his own mind for so long wasn’t healthy. Chisato always told him that he should talk to someone,  _ anyone _ , about all the little things that kept him up at night and made his head spin. 

“You’re doing it again. Let’s sit down, Dojima-san.”

There’s no time to argue before Adachi’s hand grabs him by his free wrist and pulls him to the armchairs in the lobby. For a brief moment, there is a time where he tries to fight, but his partner is persistent and doesn’t stop pulling until they’re sat down. Two cups sat on the table as if markers that they ever existed. 

The office creaks. 

A beat of silence passes, where neither of them speak. Maybe because they don’t want to, maybe because they don’t know what to say. Talks between grown men should only be about work, his father tells him, but here they are. Doubt surrounds him like fog, pulling at his lips and crawling down his throat. The mist is inky black, inescapable, and for a moment he wonders if he’ll die in his seat, sitting across from the one person that really,  _ truly _ cares. 

Is that even right?

His mouth opens to say something, anything, but instead, he picks up the paper cup and takes a sip from the puncture in the lid. It’s warm from time passed, not too hot, and not too cold, so he finishes half of it off in a few swigs. 

“You’ve never really told me much about her, Dojima-san. Or… about the time you spent together.”

Funny, how the person that invited him over to the table is the first to break the silence. Maybe that’s how it should be, maybe he should’ve taken the initiative, spilled everything out so that there wouldn’t be forced smiles and laughs like always. 

Ryotaro thinks for a moment, and then sighs. “Our story is rather… boring compared to most. Still care to hear?” 

Adachi nods swiftly, and a bit of tension relaxes from both of them. Seems they were finally getting somewhere, as miniscule as it was. 

“Chisato…” His grip on the cup increases, barely by a fraction, but enough that the warmth seeps deeper into his skin. “Chisato and I met when we were seven. Instant friends, instant lovers as the women on the block used to say. My parents even joked about it, despite the fact that we were barely in school and still wrestling in the dirt like it was going to kill us if we didn’t.” He forces a laugh, but it comes out watery, broken, and Adachi’s expression changes. The man is frowning now, as if Ryotaro is someone to pity. No, he brought this all upon himself. These years are just a consequence for his failures. 

_ Too busy of a man, that Dojima.  _

“Nearly everyone we knew expected us to get married. Friends, family, people on the street that didn’t know anything more than faces and rumors passed by grandmothers in knitting circles. I don’t… I don’t know if we ever loved each other more than best friends. She was the one good thing I had, though, and…” Bringing the cup up to his lips, he finishes it off, staving away tears that threaten to fall. He’s forty-three, and men his age don’t cry. 

“And so we got married like everyone expected us to. Nanako came along a little bit after. I love my daughter, I would do anything to keep her happy, but I think… no, I  _ know _ she was the result of pressure to be seen as the  _ perfect _ couple. What’s a couple of young newlyweds without a shining little girl to complete the picture?”

Adachi nods, knowingly, but Ryotaro doesn’t understand what he knows. As far as he’s heard, his partner hasn’t even kissed a woman before, let alone gotten married. If so, he’s gotten real damn good at hiding it. Sometimes a dark corner of his mind wishes that he hadn’t ever succumbed to rumor, kept his head on straight and then maybe he’d be able to relate to Adachi a little more. Maybe they’d get along better, because he wouldn’t be obsessed with avenging a dead woman he never wanted to marry. 

“I don’t think I even...” The last two words dance on the tip of his tongue, and he quickly shuts his mouth before they slip out. Nobody would ever know the secret he kept, not even Adachi. It’s too dangerous, too self-centered a thought. He picks the cup up, but there’s nothing left in it. 

“I’ll refill it, R- Dojima-san.” 

His brow quirks. Seemed the other had been close to using his first name- he wonders why it didn’t come along sooner. They were good friends, weren’t they? 

_ No, no Ryotaro, you treat him like shit because you treat yourself like shit.  _

_ Selfish, selfish, selfish.  _

With a nod from himself, the rookie goes to the coffee machine, makes the drink exactly how Ryotaro likes it. The action brings an inkling of a smile to his face- to think Adachi memorized how he takes his coffee… his chest tightens up, and despite himself he doesn’t steady the quick thrum of his heart. A strange feeling, but his smile grows for a second, and then he forces it to fall. 

“Be careful, it’s still really hot!” Adachi hums as he returns with a full cup, appearance as astray as ever. Ryotaro wonders why he even bothered with the tie, because it’s not like the kid- the  _ man _ \- even tried to make himself look presentable. It was endearing and frustrating all at the same time. 

Even with the warning, he takes a small sip. Not burning, but if he had drank any more, it would’ve scalded his tongue. 

_ You deserve it.  _

“Does it even matter?” Fumbling for a cigarette, he pulls the box out of his pocket. A single one left, but that’s fine. He can buy another pack before heading home, not like anyone will, or  _ can _ stop him. Before he can pull the lighter from his pocket as well, Adachi fishes one out and places it on the table. 

Ryotaro stares at the object for a second, like he’d never seen one before, and then picks it up as if it’s the most delicate thing in the world. Why was this so strange? Adachi always carried the thing around, but right now it felt… different. Intimate, if he dared to say. With a shake of his head he lights the end, facing away from the other man to let the smoke billow out of his mouth. He’s an asshole, but not  _ that _ much of an asshole. 

The speech that sits between them, unspoken yet, is one he’s heard too many times. 

“There’s no use. If it kills me, I don’t think anyone would care.” A laugh is forced through his throat, but it’s harsh, too fake, too unlike him. Or like him in its entirety, because every part of his being is falsified in some way. 

Adachi stands, abrupt, and it rattles the table something fierce.

“Are you kidding me?”

With wide eyes blazing fire, his rookie looks at him dead-set, locked, trapped. Never has he seen the man like this, invigorated and with the gall to yell at his superior. 

“You have Nanako-chan, and Yu, and everyone here! You have…” His fingers curl into the table, and Ryotaro knows there’s something else he wants to say. 

The words come out, lilted strange not by accent but by a lump in the throat, and Adachi sits down. 

“...You have  _ me _ . I know I don’t mean all that much, but maybe I’m  _ something _ worth being here for.”

Silence befalls the room again as they settle, and Ryotaro drums his fingers on the table. His stomach hurts, and despite what Adachi is saying, he takes another drag of the cigarette. 

“You’re more than worth it, Adachi. I shouldn’t have said something like that- It was selfish.”

Adachi stares at him, waiting. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He smiles, as if the outburst never happened, and Ryotaro doesn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned. The story continues. 

“I loved Chisato because she was my best friend, and Nanako’s mother.” He swallows, takes a sip and then a long, long drag. “But I never loved her as a girlfriend, or a wife. I want to avenge her because… because it feels like I should, as her husband but not. I’m a guilty man for not caring about her like I should’ve but… We both knew that the relationship wasn’t founded on anything other than the fact that we were friends for so long.”

Adachi leans forward, drinks coffee Ryotaro is sure would be lukewarm by now, but neither of them mention it. Will they mention any details at all? 

“Dojima-san, I think-”

“Ryotaro.” 

His partner looks up from the cup he’s suddenly drawn focus to, mystified and unsure in unison. 

“What?”

“Outside of the office- or, work in general, call me Ryotaro. I’m not your boss when we’re off the clock.” 

Eventually, a nod. 

“R-Ryotaro-san, I think… I think everything you feel is normal. A lot of guys rush into marriage, a lot of girls too.” 

Despite the fumbling, it feels more natural, no power imbalance to make his stomach twist in upset at the fact that he’s seen as nothing more than a leader, never a living being. The way Adachi speaks reminds the senior detective of Nanako, how she speaks of what she learned in class when he gets home. Yu’s probably gotten a lot of those conversations recently. Ryotaro nods. 

“You’re right. I only wish I had been a stronger man. A better husband. Chisato deserved far better.”

“Why do you put yourself down so much?” 

For once, he doesn’t know how to answer. It was abrupt, and sudden, and Adachi looks like he regrets saying it, if the hand clapped over his mouth shows anything. But there’s an obligation he feels, one to answer it in truth because there’s no use running away anymore. 

“You’re young. You have time to make the right decisions, to find someone you really love.” There’s a flash in the younger’s eyes, making them look gold in the dim light. “I’ve made my decisions and fucked up with almost every one of them. Never there for Nanako, never able to do my job alone, never strong enough to quit drinking or smoking even for my daughter’s sake. I don’t deserve any praise for what I do.” 

A sip of coffee. Silence. 

“You’re a good person, Ryotaro.”

The formality is dropped this time, and he’s happy to hear it. Adachi’s first name is on his mind, and he takes a risk in saying it. 

“Tohru,” As if some sort of magic was brought into existence with those words, Adachi’s eyes light up, and he smiles with a warmth Ryotaro has never seen. Kind, and soft, and gentle. The way Chisato used to look at him, despite the lack of romantic love in their relationship. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to listen to me, and yet you did. I appreciate it. Don’t know where I’d be without you.” He laughs, and this time it’s real, real and hearty, the kind you’d expect from a father and a friend. Adachi laughter is far more quiet, but Ryotaro still notices the soft flush to pale cheeks, and a gentle plushness in his lips. 

_ Does he use lip balm? _

The thought doesn’t ring as strange to him, not yet. As they settle down, a content smile still settles on not only his face, but the other man’s as well. No longer does tension fill the room alongside their bodies, but what does is the edges of sleep. 

Ryotaro yawns, rubbing a palm into his eye to rid the haze once more. The time reads past three, and he wonders how long they sat in silence, trading glances rather than words. 

“Need me to drive you home?” 

As much as he wants to say that he’s perfectly capable of driving, his hands resist even lifting the coffee cup off the table. At this rate the steering wheel will become a pillow, and that’ll be one to explain to the boys at the office. 

“Please.” 

Adachi pumps his fist, an action he’s unsure the cause of, but it still makes a chuckle leave him as they clean up. Coffee cups emptied in the lobby sink and then tossed out in the trash, paperwork stacked on the counter for a later time. Tomorrow’s a day off, the only reason he was here so late, even with the risk of being called in. Ryotaro triple checks the lock before they leave, and time is a blur until they’re settling in the car, the younger detective twirling his keyring around a slim finger. 

As they drive in the darkness of the early morning, he recalls the details of their conversation, the way he felt, or the things he thought of. Something was off, missing, about how it ended. 

That’s when it hits him- how his mind had idealized Adachi’s appearance, messy but perfect all in the same way, and he bites his tongue to prevent himself from letting out a swear. There was no way he was in love with his _rookie_ _partner_ of all people. Plenty of good men roam the streets of Inaba every day, and yet here he was, realizing his attraction to the mess of a detective. 

Once more his mind wanders, the turning of car long gone from his thoughts and when they park he’s still thinking. Thinking of a life without Adachi, bleak, empty, and then a life where they’re moving to the city with Nanako, far more adventures to be held. It would be easy, moving away from Inaba was barely a decision to be thought on. 

“Um… Ryotaro-san, I don’t have any way to get home.” Adachi suddenly announces to the world, cutting through his fantasy of gardens and white picket fences. Ryotaro buries his face in his hands, laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever been told. 

_ You really are hopeless, aren’t you? _


End file.
